


I Follow You (Like a Stray)

by thicketofantlers



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, M/M, Muteness, Smitten Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5270180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thicketofantlers/pseuds/thicketofantlers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Erik wanted was to get into Mutant Anthropology Studies that semester, but--when it was all said and done it was a good thing that he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Follow You (Like a Stray)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> // prompt: Would love to have anything with mute!Charles and Erik starting to befriend him and then them falling in love. //
> 
> Title is from "Walking in Your Footsteps" by the Shout Out Louds.
> 
> -  
> I hope that you like it snapsvisan, and Happy Holidays if you celebrate them :)

 

                  There is a long list of things in the world that Erik hates, or, if his mother is around, a list of things that he strongly dislikes. He’s pretty sure syllabus days are near the top of the list—they’re so useless. He’s in college to learn, not to sit around and listen to professor’s reading the exact same thing that’s written on the paper which was usually uploaded to the course’s website at least a week beforehand. He can read. He doesn’t like his time wasted. It’s not his fault there are so many idiots in gen ed classes.

 

                  Which is what this is. It’s not like he’s not interested in Anthropology, but he’d rather take an advanced course. Mutant Anthropology Studies filled up in approximately six seconds after registration opened, and no amount of cajoling the registrar’s office was going to get him in when the waiting list was already full and he still had three more semesters to take it. As it was, the section of Anthro 201 that he managed to get into was still taught by one of the mutant anthropologists at the school, so it was a compromise.

 

                  Not that Erik liked making compromises, he really didn’t. But even his force of will couldn’t overpower the stony-faced, heartless secretary in the student services building.

 

                  And here he is, the first day of class. He’s already read the first chapter of the textbook, the first case study, and the syllabus in the hopes that the professor is one of the good ones who actually starts class on the first day. Erik is scrolling through his RSS feed of news sources on his phone when someone else finally dares to come up and sit next to him in the front row. Erik usually ignores most of his fellow students, but its hard to ignore the metal frame of the wheelchair as its owner locks it into place once he’s at the table. It’s enough to momentarily distract him from his scrolling, but he’s not going to start a conversation up. Class would start in about three minutes anyway, and he’s just found a news story on an ongoing mutant rights protest in Berlin that he wants to speed-read first.

 

                  Five minutes passed before the professor came to the front of the lecture room, irritatingly looking not at all the least bit flustered for her lateness, and pulled out her laptop. She made some idle chatter with a TA that walked in with her while she set up her laptop, and Erik finally put his phone away and opened up his notebook. The guy sitting next to him was digging through his own bag, unzipping compartments as he was looking for something. Erik, being astute, reached into his own bag and pulled out a spare pen, wordlessly sitting it down next to the guy’s notebook.

 

                  The guy looked up, then at Erik and smiled, picking up the pen and turning to a back page in his notebook to scribble down a “thanks J”.

 

                  “You’re welcome.”

 

                  It wasn’t until then that Erik really looked at the guy, aside from noticing the flawless welds on his wheelchair. Erik couldn’t help but pay him a little attention then—his hair was a little long, but styled reasonably well, and he had a soft face and possibly the most striking blue eyes Erik had ever seen outside of Photoshop. He was dressed somewhere between preppy chic and secretly-a-fifty-year-old man with his dark navy sweater, button up, and slacks. Erik was pretty sure the jacket hanging off the back of his chair had elbow patches. But, somehow, the whole look worked surprisingly well on him. He must be a freshman, he looked so young, but he was—and Erik would never use this word out loud or in any other context— _cute_.

 

                  Ugh. Just thinking the word was bad enough. It was a good thing Emma was all the way across campus and unlikely to hear the slip, she was so damned nosey and couldn’t keep her head to herself.

 

                  Guy-sitting-next-to-him looked away, quickly, and Erik was about to ask what was wrong or introduce himself or something reasonable—but it seemed that the professor had finally got her act together.

 

                  “Good morning everyone, sorry for the minor delay. There was an issue with the department coffee maker, I’m sure you can understand. My name is Dr. Benson, and I’ll be your professor for Anthropology 201. We have some house cleaning to do, today, so let’s get started.”

 

                  Dr. Benson introduced herself with a more detailed biography of herself and her work. She was refreshingly upfront about her mutation, which were enhanced senses, and briefly discussed her research with mutant communities and their perception in the deep south. She worked through the syllabus in near-record time (Erik already liked her), and she and her TA started handing out some kind of worksheet to everyone.

 

                  “I want everyone to turn to the person on your left, and working together, write down what you think culture is, what anthropology is, and why you think it might be a useful subject to study. You have ten minutes, and then we’ll finish with a brief discussion of what you found.”

 

                  Great. He really hoped she wasn’t one of those team-work all the time professors. There was at least one group project on the syllabus, but it didn’t say much about the in-class discussions.

 

                  Erik turned back to (cute)guy-sitting-next-to-him, but the TA had come up to sit next to them. Huh. And then guy was doing a bunch of stuff with his hands and making gestures and mouthing out something, but he wasn’t actually talking. Oh.

 

                  The TA turned to Erik after Charles was done, “So, I’m going to be acting as an interpreter for Charles, when he needs one. You don’t happen to know ASL, do you?” Erik barely had time to shake his head before the TA was going off again, “That’s fine. Charles wanted me to help introduce you—This is Charles Xavier, he’s a second semester freshman, Biology and Anthropology double major, minoring in Mutant Studies.”

 

                  Charles signed something else at the TA, and she started talking again, “He fully discloses his telepathy, but he doesn’t engage with thoughts without permission.”

 

                  _Oh_. Well, “Wouldn’t it just be easier if you wanted to talk to me that way?” Erik asked, turning back to Charles. Who was only getting cuter, because of the way that the smile lit up his brilliantly blue eyes.

                  _Oh_.

 

 

 _Erik, no_. Charles posh voice sounded so exasperated in his mind, and Erik just shrugged. It was his decision to make, it was his life, not Charles’.

 

 _It may be your life, but I won’t let you ignore your dream job just because doing so would keep you closer to me. I’m not that selfish,_ or _that needy_.

 

“I wasn’t thinking that at you, Charles. I’m taking the job.” Erik had been pouring over the offers for days—he had put in a wide range of applications, some which would use the engineering aspect of his degree and others that used the political and social aspects. Part of it was financial—if he went into engineering he’d have plenty of financial security, something that he’d never had as a child and that continued to bother him today. He could help his mother with her bills, and have more than enough leftover. But, if he went into politics he would be more than just a voice and he could help to make sure actual change happened. He had applied for a job at a firm in D.C., and even though he had a degree from one of the best Mutant Studies programs in the country and nearly a perfect GPA and GRE score, he wasn’t sure he’d get the job.

 

And now he had gotten both of them, and in the end it had been an easier job than he’d hoped for. The engineering job just so happened to be in Boston, where Charles was going for his PhD next year. It was an easy decision, even though Charles was convinced it was the wrong one.

 

 _I want to be near you, Erik, but you need to think through this. You lost days of sleep after that interview. I know you want the job in D.C. I know how important it is to you_.

 

“It’s important, but it only pays like $25,000 a year at first. If I go into engineering for a few years, I can have some padding and then switch over to politics if I still want to. I’ve got plenty of time, and it’s not like they take 22 year olds seriously anyways.”

 

_I know you’re concerned about your mother, but she’d want you to be happy with your career._

                  “I’d be happy at the engineering job, too. I like the problem solving. And the firm does a lot of work with their local mutant rights organizations, which is why I even put in application there. The lead engineer and founder of the company is a mutant.”

 

                  _They work on military contracts, you know_.

 

                  Erik shifted, because that was something he had a problem with. Especially considering the current political situation, but it’s not like that’s all they did. “That’s not the only kind of contract they work on.”

 

                  _Erik . . . Please._

 

                  Charles was guilting him—and it was frustrating because it nearly always worked when he was actually trying, like he was now. And the bigger problem was that it was tempting to work anyway, because a huge part of him did want to take the job in D.C. More than half of him, anyway. The engineering firm had its advantages, aside from the hidden ones, but the D.C. job was perfect.

 

                  “I don’t have to give either of them an answer yet, I still have until Friday to think about it,” Erik finally said, giving it an air of decisiveness. _This conversation is done for now_. After all, he hadn’t graduated yet, and he still had finals next week and if he tanked them then both of the job offers could disappear.

 

                  _That’s unlikely, you’re in the top five of your class, they won’t give up on you that easily. Especially considering you could probably fall asleep and still ace all of those finals_.

 

                  “They’re very challenging courses!”

 

                  _I never said they weren’t. I just meant that you answer challenges by head-butting them, you were prepared for the finals two months into the semester_. _Remember Dr. Benson’s class?_

How could he forget that class? The one where he had met Charles and spent half the semester learning as much about Anthropology, way beyond the scope of the course, so that he could impress Charles, not that he admitted that. He still didn’t admit that.

 

                  “That was just a particularly interesting class,” Erik said with a shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. He had doubled the required length for the final paper, three weeks before it had been due. Dr. Benson had been equal parts amused and horrified, and threatened to make him cut out half of it because she had 60 other papers to grade counting her other classes.

 

                  _You’re just an overachiever. Which is why you should go to D.C._

“Charles. I said we were done talking about that.”

 

                  _I didn’t say anything about the job offers. I just meant it in general, as sort of an open ended suggestion_. He was grinning, of course he was. Erik loved Charles’ smile—it was always heartfelt, reaching up into his eyes.

 

                  “You have everyone wrapped around your little finger, but you’re just as sneaky as the rest of us,” Erik teased in response, rolling his eyes a little and grinning back at Charles.

 

                  _Oh please, you love it when I’m sneaky with you_. Which, Erik did. It wasn’t often he could convince Charles to walk on the wild side, and be risky, but there had been a few late night adventures on campus and in the city.

 

                  “Maybe I just love you,” Erik replied, nearly caught off guard by his own voice when he said it. He couldn’t read the look on Charles’ face for a moment, and he backtracked a little, something he usually didn’t do under pain of death, “Well, maybe not maybe— “

 

                  _Oh, hush, Erik. I love you too._

“Oh. Well—good.”

 

 

                  Erik was used to standing in front of crowds. He had been protesting since his sophomore year of high school, and had gotten serious about it in college. He had been president of the Mutant Student’s Association, and in D.C. he gave speeches on Mutant’s Rights and learned how to suck up his pride and talk to people that he hated to get what he wanted. Erik knew how to act around people, even if he sometimes felt disingenuous.

 

                  Like now. He was wearing a mask of perfect serenity (because he didn’t want to look nervous in the pictures), but he was a turmoil of emotions inside. Everything was going perfectly—the weather was on just the cool side of perfect, the caterer had been on time, the guests were seated. He didn’t even know why he was nervous. It was stupid. Everything was perfect.

 

                  And then he saw Charles coming down the aisle, and he’s pretty sure the mask broke. He wasn’t sure what was on his face now—relief? Anxiety? Bliss? Love? He was sure every possible emotion that he could be feeling, he was feeling right then. He just hoped he didn’t look like an idiot in the pictures, but that really was the last thing on his mind. All he could think was— _Charles_.

 

                  _Right here, darling. I’m fairly sure we’re not supposed to be talking right now_.

 

                  _Screw tradition. You look amazing_.

 

                  _Not cute?_ Charles was grinning as Raven pushed him down the aisle, and Erik couldn’t help but answer with his own grin.

 

                  Today really was perfect.

 

                  When they had walked down the aisle, Raven let go of the chair and Charles took over, and side by side he and Erik entered the _chuppah_. Charles, being nonreligious, wasn’t necessarily incline to have any sort of a traditional wedding at all, but when Erik posed the question he was more than acquiescing to bringing in some Jewish customs. Not that Erik was any more religious, but it was still an important part of his small family. The _chuppah_ was simple, the white draped over the sleek metal frame that Erik had insisted on making himself.

 

                  A rabbi from Erik’s mother’s synagogue was the officiant, but their vows were entirely secular—spoken out loud and they had each translated them into ASL, themselves. After the vows were spoken and signed, and the rings exchanged, Erik crushed the glass beneath his foot. It passed in a hazy blur—months and months of planning, for the ceremony itself to be over with in less than half an hour.

 

                  Erik used his powers to push Charles chair back down the aisle, so they could hold hand. Raven was cheering and clapping for them, probably the loudest of them all, but Erik could barely hear her—he was focused entirely on Charles. They had a few moments of peace before everyone would leave their seats and start milling around to talk and congratulate them—but then again, the two of them were used to grabbing small conversations and moments of time to themselves.

 

                  _Hello, husband._

“And hello to you, husband.”

 

                  _I feel a bit dazed, that was much shorter than I expected it to be._

“Should we be feeling different yet?”

 

                  _Perhaps_.

 

                  They were both smiling at each other, and Erik was too happy to even care that he was using that full out grin that people complained made him look like a vicious predator ( _Oh hush, it’s only a little threatening_ , Charles had told him once, to which Erik had retorted, “It’s not supposed to be threatening at all.”).

 

                  _You know, I’d rather not feel any different than this anyway. I don’t think it’s possible to love you anymore than I did already._

Erik just leaned down to kiss his husband, the infectious smile still on his face, “For once, I don’t think we could disagree on that.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a couple of final notes, re: muteness and the wedding. 
> 
> I was only able to do minimal research for this, so I hope everything is okay. Regarding Charles' muteness, it seemed to me like he would like ASL for non-writing/typing communication, unless he specifically had someone's permission to speak telepathically. The way I see this universe, the campus is pretty pro-mutant and Charles would speak telepathically with most people.
> 
> In regards to the wedding, I did a little research but not extensively. I don't know a lot about the different types of Judaism and which ones practice what, but I found a few things that seem to be done in modern secular Jewish weddings and focus more on equality in marriage. 
> 
> If anything is incorrect, please do let me know! I did some research, but it was by no means exhaustive and I would hate to be glaringly wrong or insensitive about something.


End file.
